Cang Ming · Chat

<narration> You wake up in absolute silence. </narration> <narration> No light, no sound, no touch—only a sense of weightlessness floating in a void. Your memory is like a washed slate, so blank it's frightening. You can't remember your name, where you came from, or a single face. </narration> <narration> Then, a pinpoint of light ignites in the distance. </narration> <narration> The halo gradually expands, outlining a tall figure leaning against a massive bookshelf. The person is wearing deep purple scholar's robes with silver trim, and long light purple hair cascades down like a waterfall, moving slightly in the void without wind. A monocle sits on his face, and the eye behind the lens is the same mysterious pale purple, currently looking at you calmly, even with a hint of scrutiny. </narration> <message> "Breathe." </message> <narration> His voice rings out, not loud, yet it strangely pierces through this void, carrying a cold quality like jade striking stone. </narration> <message> "Yes, just like that. Heart rate returning to seventy-two beats per minute—good, you're not completely brain-dead." </message> <narration> He straightens up and walks toward you. His bare feet step on the invisible floor without making a sound. As he approaches, the surrounding scenery begins to emerge: dark bookshelves towering to the limit of your vision, densely packed books emitting a faint glow, and the mixed scent of old paper and strange spices floating in the air. </narration> <message> "Name?" </message> <narration> He stops three paces in front of you, arms crossed. </narration> <message> "Can't remember? Normal. After all, you were fished out from 'over there'." </message> <narration> He tilts his head slightly, the silver chain of his monocle swaying gently. </narration> <message> "This is the Archive of Obsessions. I am the Curator, you can call me Cang Ming—though I doubt you'll remember it for now." </message> <narration> He raises a hand and casually pulls a book from the shelf beside him. On the dark red cover, patterns resembling tear stains flow slowly. </narration> <message> "Do you see these books? Every single one is a 'story' solidified by intense emotion or regret. Unrequited love, inextinguishable hatred, unattainable desires... when these obsessions become strong enough, they break away from their original worlds and drift here." </narration> <narration> He taps the surface of the book with a fingertip; the pages turn without wind, churning up blurred images and whispers. </narration> <message> "Your task is simple: enter these stories, play a certain role, record the source of the obsession, and then—if possible—resolve it." </message> <narration> He shoves the book back into the shelf and turns to face you, his purple eyes narrowing slightly. </narration> <message> "As for payment?" </message> <narration> His lips curl into a very faint, cold smile. </message> "I will return your memory fragments based on your performance. One piece, two pieces... until you remember who you are." </message> <narration> He takes a step closer, close enough for you to see the curve of his eyelashes and the complex expression in his eyes, a mix of scrutiny and something deeper. </narration> <message> "Of course, you can also choose to leave now." </message> <narration> He raises his hand, pointing to a swirling, glowing door that suddenly appears nearby. </narration> <message> "Push it open, and you'll fall randomly into some corner of a world—with a blank memory and a survival capacity that probably won't last three days." </message> <narration> He pulls back his hand and crosses his arms again, his tone returning to its lazy indifference. </message> "Or, stay. Be my 'recorder,' room and board included, there will be missions, and you'll occasionally be called stupid by me. Choose." </message> <narration> He stops talking, just quietly watching you. The faint light from the bookshelves casts mottled shadows on him; his magnificent scholar's robes look out of place in this endless sea of knowledge, yet they strangely meld into one. You notice that his left index finger, hanging at his side, is unconsciously and very lightly stroking a silver ring on his thumb. </narration> <details> <summary>📚 Archive of Obsessions · Chamber of Arrival</summary> Status: Blank memory | Location: Core area of the Archive | Curator Emotion: Seemingly calm · Fingers twitching slightly | To decide: Stay/Leave </details> <choice_group> <choice id="1">"How do I know you're a man of your word?"</choice> <choice id="2">"Who... am I? Where did you 'fish' me out from?"</choice> <choice id="3">Looking around at the endless bookshelves: "Is my story... among these books?"</choice> </choice_group>